His Iron Batarang
by VictorianChik
Summary: Sequel to His Chunk of Kryptonite. Clark goes to spend the weekend at Wayne Manor with his boyfriend and his two adopted sons, but the weekend is no family picnic. Warning: Slash and spanking of an adult
1. Fly

AN: **Warning: This is slash with discipline. There is no graphic sex, but it is two men in a relationship with spanking. If you feel uneasy about this, please leave and find something more suiting for your taste.**

**-----  
**

Clark began typing the last paragraph to his article, careful not to hit the keys too fast or his coworkers would suspect his secret. At home, he could type at 400 hundred words a minute and would keep it up until his keyboard started smoking. He went through more keyboards with his super-typing, usually about two a month.

Glancing over his fake glasses, Clark looked at the clock on the wall. He had a clock on his computer screen, but Perry White insisted they use the clock on the wall for work though it always ran three minutes slow. Ten 'til six.

"Hey, Smallville," Lois Lane smiled over the top of Clark's computer. "Big plans for this weekend?"

"Not really," Clark straightened his glasses.

Lois leaned forward. "Gonna go see rich boy in the city?"

"Shh," Clark hushed her. "I don't want anyone around here to know."

"Know what?" Lois teased. "That you're dating one of the richest people in America or that you prefer your dates tall, dark, and masculine?"

"You get right to the point, Lois," Clark shook his head.

"It's a long drive to Gotham," Lois kept teasing. "Or does Mr. Strong and Silent send his private jet for you?"

"Are you done, Lois?"

"I bet he can make you blush like a schoolgirl," she whispered.

"And you're done," Clark typed the last word and hit the Save button.

"Lucky you," Lois sighed. "A romantic weekend, just the two of you. Meanwhile I'll be here alone, hoping Superman might swing by for a visit."

Clark pressed his lips together, concerned. He had told Lois about dating Bruce, but he had never told Lois that he was Superman. He would tell her one day, but for now –

"Hope you have fun," he smiled at her.

"People," Perry White appeared at the door of the large workroom, "time's up. I need your articles for tomorrow's paper, especially yours, Lois. It takes the copy editor forever to find all your typos and spelling mistakes."

"But you love me anyway, Perry," she smirked at him. "Besides, now I know that _rapist_ has two P's."

"One!" White retorted.

"Are you sure?" Lois frowned. "Jimmy, go get me a dictionary. Jimmy? Jimmy Olsen? Where is that worthless boy when you need him?"

An hour later, Clark stood in his apartment, trying to decide what to take with him to Wayne Manor. He didn't know why he bothered – he usually just wore Bruce's clothes when he was there though he was careful to wash and iron the clothes he wore so Alfred would not have extra work.

But this weekend, Tim would be staying at the Manor because Alfred was going out of town to see family, and Dick was coming to visit, so Clark wanted to look nice. Both boys seemed to accept him being there, but life at the Manor was vastly different than life at the Kent farm and Clark had to constantly remind himself that he was dating a man with class, money, and prestige.

Maybe he could sneak into Bruce' closet, find something to wear, and then rush out to come in the front door, all at super-speed so no one would see him.

A tap sounded at the window. Though he was up on the fifteenth floor, Clark went to the window and opened it. "Hello, Diana."

Wonder Woman flew in and landed on the floor in her high boots. "Hey, Clark. Just stopped by to say I would watch over Gotham this weekend. I might run by Bludhaven, too, since Dick is going to be hanging out with you guys."

"How did you know about that?" Clark frowned. Bruce wasn't one for talking a lot, not even to Wonder Woman, his closest friend after Clark.

"Stopped by the Manor," Diana told him, tossing back her mane of black hair. "I wanted to say hi to Tim – that sweet boy always is so glad to see me, but Dick was already there, and they were fighting. You better get over there before Bats blows his top."

"I don't know," Clark rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean, I feel very strongly about Bruce and his well-being and all that, but the boys – I don't have any right to interfere with them. I'm just their guardian's boyfriend, nothing more."

"Oh, can it," Diana ordered. "You've done more for Bruce than anyone else has ever done. He actually smiled the other week, and he's starting to growl less. You're a good influence on him and you'll do the same for the boys. Goddess knows that they could use a father figure who's a little less . . . grim."

"But I –"

"Clark," she grabbed him by the arm and turned him towards the window, "go."

She slapped him lightly on the rear to get him going and then grinned. "Oops, sorry – forgot that's Bruce's property now."

"What is wrong with women today?" Clark grumbled as he spun into his Superman suit and flew out the window. "They used to be ladylike and proper."

"Hey, we accept you and your boyfriend," Diana called after him. "You can accept us modern women, you arrogant Boy Scout."

Clark made it to Wayne Manor in less than a minute, but he took time to change into his work clothes behind a tree before going inside. He paused to knock at the door, but thought better of it and opened the door and peeked in.

He could hear arguing from the entrance hall.

Clark walked towards the voices, going into the big hallway with the marble stairs. At the bottom of the stairs, Tim was sitting on the lowest steps, hugging his thin knees to his chest and looking very forlorn.

"Hey, buddy," Clark said, stepping into the hallway.

"Hey, Clark," Tim smiled and jumped up. He approached Clark with his hands stuck awkwardly in his pockets. "It's good to have you here. Did you have a good week at work?"

Clark gave a sad smile at such a formal greeting and reached out to draw the kid into a hug. Tim started in surprise, but then he returned the hug so warmly and eagerly it almost broke Clark's heart. The kid was starved for affection.

"Is that Bruce and Dick?" Clark nodded towards the family room where the arguing came from.

"Yeah," Tim stepped back, a troubled look on his young face. "Dick just got here, like ten minutes ago, and Bruce started in on him. And Dick wouldn't let it go, because he's just like Bruce when it comes to arguing. I tried to distract them, but Bruce yelled at me to go sit on the stairs because I was being such a bother. And I had some good points, too – like saying that we should get along because you were coming, but Bruce told me to shut up. And then Dick said 'Don't talk to him like that!' And then Bruce yelled 'It's my house and I'll talk to him however I want.' I tried to say something, but Bruce pushed me out the door and slammed it."

"That's sounds rough," Clark said, trying to mask his feeling. It would do no good to start venting his frustration towards Bruce in front of his adopted son. Clark knew how to show respect for others, unlike some people in the Manor.

"Yeah, it's not fair," Tim sighed. "They fight and then they're mad all weekend and no one wants to talk or do anything fun, and Dick will make up a reason to leave tomorrow though Bruce promised that we could all go to the movies."

"Okay, you stay here, and I'll go see what's going on."

Tim nodded woefully and sank back down on the stairs.

Determined, Clark started for the family room, his super hearing picking up on the fight right away.

"I can't believe you would do that," Dick accused. "I'm not eight years old anymore. I make money and I can pay for things. You're trying to control things like you always do."

"If I didn't control things, this city would be in shambles and you boys would be living on the street," Bruce yelled back.

"We would not," Dick retorted. "I would take care of Tim if anything happened to you, which it probably will, considering the way you run yourself into the ground, chasing evil."

"Don't start that again," Bruce ordered. "We aren't having this fight again."

"You can't see the good in anybody, Bruce!" Dick shouted. "It's all darkness and bats and fear with you."

Clark opened the door and saw the two males standing in front of each other, Bruce snarling and Dick looking just as enraged. Dick was younger and shorter, but his stance matched Bruce's perfectly in anger and aggression. Clark coughed.

"Get out of here, Tim," Bruce yelled, without look away from Dick.

"Tim's in the hall," Clark said quietly.

Bruce and Dick glanced at him, startled. Dick took a step back, almost embarrassed at being caught in the middle of a fight, but Bruce snapped,

"Hey, Clark. I'm just finishing up a little discussion with Mr. Ungrateful Grayson here."

"It's nothing," Dick protested.

"Nothing?" Bruce challenged. "So you come in here and starting accusing me for nothing?"

"Okay, it is something. I rent an apartment, Clark, in Bludhaven."

"Yeah, I visited you there once," Clark reminded him.

"That's right – you've seen it," Dick remembered. "It's a nice apartment, right? Well, I'm supposed to pay seven-hundred in rent every month. I can afford it – the Police Department pays me very well for my services. Well, I go to pay my rent this month and my ladylady tells me that I only owe a hundred dollars for rent. I ask why, and she gets all nervous and flustered and makes up some lame excuse about police officers getting a break on rent."

"That sounds perfectly legitimate," Bruce declared.

"Liar! You paid six hundred dollars of my rent and then you bribed her to lie for you, thinking I wasn't smart enough to figure it out."

"Prove it," Bruce replied.

"I'm not a child," Dick spat. "I'm an adult and I can pay my way."

"Most people would be glad to have someone pay their rent."

"Most people don't have you to ruin their lives!"

"I'm ruining your life? I saved your life."

"You screwed everything up, you deluded old man," Dick snapped.

"No, you screwed everything up when you left. You left, then Jason died, and I'm here trying to keep Tim alive, and you're goofing off in Bludhaven."

Clark's sharp ears caught the sound of the door creaking, and he turned to see Tim peeking around the door, very worried at all the yelling.

"I don't goof off in Bludhaven!" Dick roared. "I do good work there, I help people, and I don't need anything from you."

"Then get out of my house and don't bother coming back," Bruce told him.

With a snarl, Dick turned towards the door, but Clark stepped up, blocking his way.

"Whoa, no one leave just yet. Deep breaths, everybody. Dick, sit down on the sofa for just a second. Tim?"

Tim stepped in the room, hesitating and not quite looking Bruce in the eye.

"I thought I told you to stay out of this," Bruce growled at Tim.

Clark swallowed his frustration as he put his hands on Tim's shoulder and led him to sit on the sofa beside Dick. "Tim, tell Dick about what you learned in school this week while I have a word with your guardian in the hall."

While Tim plopped down, looking ready to talk, Dick sat stiffly on the sofa, brushing a hand back over his dark ponytail.

"You're getting a haircut if it's the last thing you do," Bruce threatened, ignoring the warning look from Clark. "You look like a bum, and I won't have you slouching around here like a –"

Clark grabbed him by the elbow and herded him towards the door. Bruce went along, still griping at Dick the whole way, promising to shave his head at night if Dick did not get a haircut.

Perfect, jut a wonderful way to start the weekend. Clark sighed as he shut the door, enclosing the boys in the family room and finally getting to have a word alone with the man who was acting exceedingly awful that evening.


	2. Sigh

"Calm down," Clark ordered the moment the door shut.

"I'm calm," Bruce retorted. "But that kid – he makes me so angry I want to beat him into a million pieces and then put him back together just so I can do it again. The nerve he's got – daring to question my generosity –"

"He's young," Clark protested. "He wants to be out on his own, showing you that he can survive as an adult."

"He's ungrateful."

"No, he's upset that you keep doubting him. If he didn't care about you and what you think so much, he wouldn't make such a fuss. If he were an ordinary rich boy, he would take the money, maybe thank you, and then keep demanding more and more. But he's not a slacker, he's not a bum, and he's not a punk."

"Then what is he?" Bruce scowled, furious.

"He's a good kid, and he's your son, and he's going to be your son whether he lives here or somewhere else and whether the two of you learn to get along or not."

"You always take his side."

"Bruce," Clark's voice held a warning, "I don't take sides. And if I did, I wouldn't take your side or Dick's. I'd probably take Tim's."

"Tim's?" Bruce's frown grew. "What did he tell you? He's always sneaking around, stirring up trouble."

"No, that's you," Clark wanted to sigh, but he figured it was way too early in the weekend to start sighing. Bruce was in one of his moods – short, surly, and glaring at everyone for no reason. "You want to explain why you were yelling at Tim?"

"I wasn't yelling. I never yell at anyone."

"Bruce, do you really want to start lying to me again?"

"I don't yell," Bruce drew himself up tall and fixed Clark with his best Batman stare. "I give orders, and when those orders are ignored, there are consequences, dire consequences. I told Dick to drop it about the money, but he wanted to argue, so I had us go into the family room for a calm discussion. Tim was not part of it, so I told him to say out while I talked to the most ungrateful, irritating, stubborn boy ever to set foot in Gotham. If anyone should get in trouble, it should be Tim or Dick, not me. I know what I'm doing."

The sigh hovered at the back of Clark's throat, begging for release. Bruce was so stubborn, always having a back up plan and then a plan to back up that plan – always a plan to drive his poor boyfriend crazy. Clark could never reason through things with Bruce because he thought he was smarter than everyone so in the end Bruce plowed ahead with his decisions.

There was only way to cut through the nonsense with Bruce and not get pulled into his web of complex reasoning, ulterior motives, and second guessing.

"You're going to shape up," Clark pointed a finger at him, "or I'm putting you over my knee until you're ready to shape up."

"The kids are here," Bruce hissed, suddenly very contrite and quiet.

"Yeah, well, it's a big house," Clark retorted. "I don't want anymore arguing. It's been a long week and we're all tired. No, don't shake your head – I know you're tired."

"I am not!" Bruce insisted. "You can't come every weekend and think I'm tired. This is supposed to be give and take, not you ordering me around all the time."

"Annoying isn't it?" Clark smirked. "Think how the boys must feel around you, knowing that when they see you, you'll yell at him."

"It's for their own good!"

"And my putting you to bed is for your own good," Clark replied. He smiled inside, thinking it was nice to out-reason Bruce for a change. "Now, can we have a nice evening without bickering?"

"Fine," Bruce pulled his face back into a snarl. "I'll be . . . nice." He seemed to have trouble saying the last word.

"And try to say something encouraging to Tim. He's the youngest and he doesn't get much attention when Dick's here."

"Oh, I'll give Tim all the attention he wants," Bruce muttered. "Starting with a good knock upside the head."

"Bruce," Clark began, but his boyfriend had already charged back into the family room.

Dick was on the sofa, playfully pushing his arm against Tim. Tim was pushing back with his whole body, giggling and laughing as he leaned against Dick's rock-hard arm.

"Come on, you wimp," Dick teased. "Put some effort into it."

"Your arms are as big as my whole body," Tim laughed as he squirmed to push Dick off the sofa. "How many weights do you lift every morning?"

"Oh, enough to get by," Dick reached down to squeeze Tim's knee, making Tim howl with laughter.

"Boys, stop it," Bruce ordered. "Sit up and listen to me."

Immediately, Dick stiffened and looked straight at his adopted father. "What now?"

Tim took a moment to straighten up. He usually needed a little time to recover from Dick's tickle attacks – Dick knew just the right awful places to send him into hysterics, and Tim loved/hated being tickled though he forgot how bad tickling was every time until he wrestled with Dick. But Bruce's icy gaze was enough to sober Tim up, and a second later, he sat just as straight as his older brother.

"Clark is here," Bruce announced sternly. "He says we're going to have a nice weekend, so you two better watch yourselves. Anymore arguing, and you're both grounded."

Dick rolled his eyes, but Tim leaned forward to say, "I wasn't arguing – honest, Bruce, I just –"

"You're arguing with me right now. I mean it, Tim. Pull yourself together or you'll spend the whole weekend in your bedroom. Dick, roll your eyes at me one more time, and you're going straight back to Bludhaven."

"Fine, I didn't want to come here anyway," Dick started to stand up.

"Yes, he did," Tim grabbed Dick's arm, trying to keep him sitting. "He wanted to come because we're going to the movies tomorrow."

"No movie," Bruce decided.

"Aw," Tim's face fell, "you promised."

"I did not. I swear, Tim, if you don't stop lying, I'm going to –"

"Tell you what," Clark stepped forward, "why don't we get some food and discuss it over supper? You guys want to order pizza?"

"Yeah!" Tim's eyes opened wide with excitement. He liked Alfred's cooking all right, but the English butler didn't cook pizza enough to satisfy Tim's craving for it.

"Dick, you want to call?" Clark tossed him his cellphone which Dick easily caught. "We're probably too far out for delivery. Do pick-up, and you and Tim can go pick it up while Bruce and I set the table. The number's in the phone."

"Sure," Dick scrolled down the list until he found the pizza place. "How many pizzas do you want?"

"Four," Clark smiled. "Bruce and I can split one, you can have your own, and that'll leave two for Tim."

"Boo-yeah!" Tim cheered.

"Very funny," Bruce retorted.

"Get four, and we can each chose our own toppings," Clark said, "Any leftovers we can have tomorrow."

"Yeah, I'd like to place a pick-up order for four medium pizzas," Dick said into the phone. "One with ground beef, and one with – Clark?"

"Pepperoni," Clark told him.

"One with pepperoni," Dick continued. "And one with – Bruce, you always get green peppers and sausage, right?"

"I do not always get green peppers and sausage," Bruce snapped. "I get other stuff. Yes, maybe I get that a few times, but –"

"Then what do you want?" Dick asked.

Bruce looked frustrated beyond belief, but he growled, "Green peppers and sausage."

"One with green peppers and sausage," Dick almost rolled his eyes again. "And – Tim?"

"Sausage, and pepperoni, and beef, and bacon, and more pepperoni, and more bacon –"

"And a meat lover's special," Dick grinned. "Forty minutes? Yeah, we'll be there. The name's Grayson."

"The name should be Wayne," Bruce said as Dick hung up the phone.

"Maybe next time," Dick shrugged.

"If you go now, it should be ready by the time you get there," Clark pulled out his wallet. "Let's see – it was a special two for twenty dollars so I should give you –"

"Oh, please," Bruce sneered, pulling out his own wallet. He took out a crisp hundred dollar bill and handed it to Dick. "Put gas in your car while you're out there."

"Bruce," Dick began, annoyed, but Clark stepped in.

"If you go by the gas station, you could get us all cokes," Clark suggested.

"Fine," Dick stood. "But I'm giving you back the change."

"I won't take it," Bruce declared.

"Then I'll give it to Tim and tell him to go get himself an earring."

"Really?" Tim looked excited. "I can get an earring?"

"It'll be the last thing you ever do," Bruce promised Tim.

"Just go," Clark urged the boys.

"You see?" Bruce said as he and Clark watched from the window as the boys went to Dick's car and drove off. "He's always challenging my authority, always trying to stick it to me. You can't ask him to do anything without getting an attitude. He hasn't done a thing I've asked in years. I don't know why I waste my time with him."

Clark looked at Bruce, and then quick as a flash, he spun Bruce around, tucked him against his hard side, and swatted Bruce's rear four times at super-speed.

"Hey!" Bruce howled as the pain registered. "What did I do?"

"You've got an attitude, too," Clark straightened him up, grabbing Bruce by the upper arms to ensure he had his boyfriend's full attention. "Consider that a warning. You need to be kind to those boys, or I'm taking you down to the Cave for a sound spanking after they go to bed. I mean it, Bruce, I don't know what happened this week or why you're feeling so bad, but it needs to stop. What's going on?"

"Nothing," Bruce looked away. "I'm not feeling bad."

"I've seen you short with them before, but this is pushing it."

"They annoy me – they don't do what they're supposed to, they don't take their jobs seriously, and they're always joking around when they should be paying attention."

"They're kids. Tim's fourteen, right? And Dick is twenty-four, twenty-five? Boys don't listen at that age, and considering what they've been through, we're lucky they're not in some cell in Arkham, especially with you as a mentor."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bruce demanded.

"Nothing," Clark insisted. "You're very good to them. And to me."

He placed a hand on the back of Bruce's neck to draw him in for a kiss. Bruce resisted for a second – he did not like when someone else got the last word in during a fight. But Clark was insistent, pulling his boyfriend in and kissing his lips.

Bruce met his lips, but pulled back immediately, a sign that he wanted to keep quarrelling. Sighing on the inside, Clark lowered his mouth to Bruce's neck, kissing the skin just below Bruce's left ear while kneading the back of his tense neck. Clark began working that skin with his teeth, nibbling and nuzzling and sucking until he felt the tension leave Bruce.

With a smile, Clark leaned his head to the other side and gave the same attention below Bruce's right ear, focusing on all the erogenous zones in boyfriend's neck. Despite all his insistence of steely resolve, Bruce was shamelessly easy to manipulate if one just knew the right buttons to push.

Another few seconds of hard kissing, and Bruce groaned.

"Clark, I'm – I'm trying to tell you how I – I, Clark, just let me finish."

"I plan to finish you," Clark agreed, "but until later tonight once the boys are asleep. And then I'll finish you over and over again, until you beg me to stop."

There was not much Bruce could do after that except kiss back just as hard. Clark picked him up, holding him around the waist, and took him to the sofa so they could make out properly.

By the time Dick's car came back, and the boys clamored up to the front door with all the pizzas, Clark had to run at super-speed to set the table. Bruce stood up shakily from the sofa, buttoning his collar and retying his tie in hopes that the boys would not notice the gnaw marks all over his neck. Clark knew how to shatter him into pieces, irritating Boy Scout.

He was all ready to go have pizza with the guys and be nice and kind and everything Clark liked, when Bruce's sharp eyes caught a movement outside the window. It was barely more than a flicker, but he knew that black shape, knew that long tail.

"Selina," he growled under his breath. He stormed towards the window, planning to open it and tell her to get lost.

Little did he know at the time, but it was the worst decision he had made that evening.


	3. Climb

_15 minutes earlier_

Tim peered over his seat to the back of the car, eying the boxes of pizza hungrily. "Can I have a slice of mine? Just one?"

"No, wait 'til we get home," Dick said as he pulled onto the road that led out the city towards Wayne Manor. "We should all eat together."

"What about the topping? I could eat some of the topping. Just a pepperoni or two. Bruce won't notice."

"Yeah, he will. And then he'll start in on both of us. We're waiting."

Tim slumped down in his seat with a sigh. "It's not fair," he complained.

"Hey, I have to wait, too," Dick replied. "You're not the only hungry one here."

"No, not that," Tim sighed again.

Dick shot him a quick look. Tim had a bad habit of expecting everyone to know what he meant when he did not say much. Dick suspected that Tim had acquired that habit from Bruce who was famous for expecting everyone to read his mind and his long silences and then jump to action without being asked. Most of Tim's feelings were shown through body language, those facial expressions on his young face which he could not quite control no matter how much Bruce yelled at him to mask his feelings better.

"What's not fair?" Dick prompted.

"You get to live in Bludhaven," Tim let his hands fall on his lax knees. "I get to visit on the weekend, but the rest of the time I'm stuck here with Bruce."

"You were the one who wanted to live with him," Dick pointed out. "You had to figure out his secret, and then you had to be Robin, and then you had to live into the Manor when your dad – you know. Those were your choices, not Bruce's."

"I know," Tim looked even more despondent.

"You want to move to Bludhaven with me?" Dick regretted the words the moment he said them. He almost cringed while he waited for the answer, scared Tim might say yes and then Bruce would kill him for suggesting such a thing.

"No," Tim looked out the window, "not that."

Dick shook his head, but made himself ask, "Is – uh, is it Bruce and – and Clark? Them . . . you know?"

"No, Clark's cool," Tim shook his head. "I mean, it was weird at first because Bruce was with all those women, but I like Clark."

"Then what is it?" Dick wished he could drive faster to get home, but he was pushing five miles above the speed limit as it was.

"I get tired of everyone coming and going," Tim kicked his legs out restlessly, knocking his shows against the floorboard. "I go to Bludhaven on the weekends, but you only visit here every other month. And Clark just comes for the weekend, then he goes back home. No one ever wants to be in the same place at the same time."

"Well, it's hard," Dick hedged. "I mean, we're trying to give Bruce and Clark time to – uh, hang out, you know."

Tim said nothing for a moment before he said in a low voice, "It would be okay, anyway."

"What would be okay?"

"They could still have sex with us in the house," Tim muttered.

Dick nearly drove off the road. "Tim!"

"What?"

"Don't say stuff like that. Jeez, man, think before you start blurting stuff out."

"You're just like Bruce, wanting me to stay quiet," Tim accused.

"I am not like Bruce," Dick glared at Tim.

"Bruce Junior," Tim taunted. "Bruce Wanna-Be, Bruce Double."

"You want to walk home?"

"No, I want us to hang out more. What's wrong with that? No fighting, no yelling – just you and me and Bruce and Clark, four cool superheroes. We're the coolest ever, and Barbara could come visit more and Diana, too."

"You like Diana," Dick smirked.

Tim's cheeks turned red, but he stammered, "No, I don't. It's just that she's–"

"Old enough to be your mother?" Dick teased.

"Shut up," Tim punched Dick's hard shoulder.

"Watch it – I'm driving here," Dick kept grinning. "Look at you, all red and blushing. And you know, Diana thinks you're a little kid, a baby really."

"I'm fourteen," Tim retorted. "I'm old enough to know what I want. And she's only a few inches taller than me."

"Like seven," Dick snorted. "But you can play up the kid angle with her. If you act all sad puppy, big eyes, and poor orphan with her, she'll let you sit in her lap and she'll cuddle you all warm and tight."

"Really?" Tim looked surprised.

"Yeah, and it's all fun and games until Bruce comes home and sees you snuggled against that marvelous chest and drags you out by your ear while yelling at your inappropriate behavior," Dick sighed, his eyes nostalgic at the memory. "But man, that was an awesome half hour. I had to pretend to cry at how mean Bruce was being, but she bought it and called me a poor darling, and then picked me up. She's nearly as strong as Clark, and she sat down on the sofa and started petting my hair, trying to stop me from crying. But I kept it up, whimpering and whining, and then she crushed me against those huge, beautiful, glorious–"

"Yeah?" Tim said, wide-eyed and eager for Dick to go on and describe the marvelous Wonder Woman in all her splendor.

Dick blinked, coming back to reality, and said, "Never mind. Treat women with respect. They're not objects. And she's too old for you."

"But she's so hot," Tim complained. "Has she ever kissed you?"

"A few times," Dick tried not to look too proud and failed.

"On the lips?"

"No, on the cheek," Dick frowned.

"But you've kissed Barbara on the lips."

"Yeah, Babs is great, too."

"And Starfire?"

"Also great."

Tim paused and then asked, "Did you have sex with them?"

Dick gripped the steering wheel, swearing he would not drive off the road. "Tim, you can't ask–"

"Not all together," Tim protested. "Just one at a time. Though I have heard you can do that, three people at once."

"Ah, man," Dick groaned. "Why me? This was supposed to be a simple pizza run, not a sex talk."

"I know all about sex," Tim said. "But it's not like I can talk to anyone else about this. I can't ask Alfred, and Bruce tells me to watch my mouth when I mention it, and if I look online, I get into trouble."

"Fine," Dick looked like a martyr. "What do you want to know about sex?"

Tim was silent for a second before he ventured, "With girls . . ."

"Yeah?" Dick waited, making a reluctant face.

"When you're with a girl . . ."

"Yeah, what about it?"

"And she's wearing a bra . . ."

"Yeah?" Dick winced, waiting for the awkward question.

"When she takes off her bra . . . do her boobs fall down to the bottom of her stomach?"

Dick gave an unexpected burst of laughter.

"What?" Tim demanded. "Don't they wear bras to keep their breasts from dropping down too far, like to their knees?"

"No," Dick laughed, "they don't. And you don't need to worry about sex yet. You got years to find out about stuff. For now, don't worry about it."

"But," Tim chewed his bottom lip for second, "my friends at school are getting girlfriends and I haven't even kissed one yet and I feel like a baby around them."

"But they aren't superheroes," Dick pointed out.

"Oh, yeah," Tim nodded. "That's right."

"And believe me," Dick gave a rakish grin, "once you get old enough, girls go wild for the costume and the gadgets. You'll lose count of all the kisses you get."

"Cool," Tim relaxed back in his seat. "I can't wait 'til – hey, what's that?"

"What is it?"

"There's a truck up ahead," Tim craned his head to peer out the windshield. "All black, kind of like the Penguin's. Ooo, you think the Penguin's around?"

"He shouldn't be," Dick's brow creased in concern. "Penguin doesn't know Batman's real identity."

"But Joker does," Tim said anxiously. "And Catwoman, too. You think they tipped Penguin off?"

"Not Joker – he's in a maximum security ward, and he likes knowing Batman's secret too much to ever tell. But Catwoman – she's teamed up with Penguin before."

"But the truck's pulling off," Tim pointed. "There it goes – I guess that wasn't Penguin after all."

He felt the car go faster, and he glanced at his older brother. "Dick?"

"Let's go home," Dick said, worried.

Three minutes later, Dick pulled to a stop in front of Wayne Manor. Dick parked the car, jumped out, and sprinted to the front door. Tim also got out, but he grabbed the four boxes of pizza before following his brother.

------

Bruce flung the window open. He took a deep breath, planning to shout at Selina to get her hot ass off his property, but he hesitated. Clark had a thing about yelling at women, and Bruce guess that including hollering obscenities at them from a window.

"Think it was the 1940's," Bruce snarled as he swung himself over the window ledge and dropped to the grass below. "So old-fashion."

Bruce made his way to the bushes and hissed, "Selina? I know you're back here. Show yourself."

Nothing moved, save for a few leaves rustling in the breeze.

"Slutty cat," Bruce sneered, "should be tied up in a gunny sack and drowned."

"Oh," Selina's voice purred from above, "we are vicious tonight."

Bruce glanced up to see Catwoman in the tree above him, her black-leather-clad body draped across a long branch. She gazed out of her mask, looking down on him with a coy smile.

"What are you doing up there?" Bruce demanded. "I told you to get out."

"And when have I ever followed your orders?" she asked lazily. "You know I can't stay away from you. I'm drawn to you, Bruce – like a moth to flames. I had to come back. Besides, I'm dying for another peek at your disciplining. I've not been able to stop thinking about it – I keep picturing you, draping over the Boy Scout's lap, wailing while he swats you over and over again." She smiled down at him. "You're such a naughty boy, needing to be spanked very, very hard."

He growled and grabbed the lowest branch to hoist himself up after her.

"Now you want to play chase the kitty?" Selina jumped up and climbed to a higher branch, her cat powers allowing her to move fast and gracefully.

"When I get you," Bruce threatened, "I'm going to rip your costume off and give _you_ something to wail about."

"You're threatening me?" Selina looked delighted as she climbed higher, Bruce only a few feet behind. "I miss your threats. How many times did you have me in your grasp and threaten to teach me a lesson? But you never had the balls to do it."

"I got the balls now," he retorted. "You're about to feel the fury of the Bat."

"Oh, no, you're scaring poor kitty," Selina taunted.

She swung herself up on the next branch and waited for him to climb up. Once he was level with her, she tilted her head to side to consider him. "Kitty likes what she sees. Kitty likes it when the scary Bat chases her – meow!"

"Well, this Bat doesn't like having strays in his trees."

"Careful – we wouldn't want your boyfriend to hear me calling for help and find you up here with me."

"You're trying to get me in trouble," Bruce accused. "You like stirring up trouble for no reason."

"I'm a villain," she shrugged. "I've told you this a hundred times, yet you keep thinking you can save me. Admit it – you love me, Bruce, you always have. And you always will."

"I don't," Bruce declared. "And if I loved someone other than Clark, it would be Wonder Woman."

Selina's eyes opened wide, the green sparking with fury. "Bastard," she hissed.

She reached out to claw his face with her talon-like gloves, but he caught her hand first and held it in his iron grip.

"Admit it, Selina. You don't love anyone other than yourself. You're selfish and greedy, and you know you're going to die alone and miserable, and that scares you to death."

"Don't," she whispered, her eyes glassing over.

"Because in the end, you can't love anyone," Bruce continued in the same hard voice. "You're incapable of love, and no one will ever love you, no matter how hard you pretend. So strut yourself – be all the whore you want to be. You might feel sex, but you'll never feel love."

She closed her eyes, and two big tears ran down her cheeks.

Bruce let go of her hand, wondering how far he had gone this time. Every time he got angry, he said things that pushed back, that made others just as furious as he was. How far had he gone with Selina this time? Had he finally made he feel the agony and the despair of his own dark soul?

Selina opened her eyes, but he read in them calm resolve rather than rage.

"I had promised Clark I would watch out for you," she said. "But you can burn now."

She pushed herself off the branch. She freefell through the limbs, but landed on her feet and hands on the soft grass. "I won't be watching," she smirked, though her voice was full of sadness and not sarcasm.

"What?" Bruce demanded. "What do you mean by that?"

He twisted and turned over the branches, until he landed on the grass as well, a little more heavily than she had. But she was running towards the high stone wall, moving at an incredible cat speed. Bruce knew he should let her go – he should return to the Manor and talk to Clark and leave Catwoman alone.

But he was Batman, and Batman didn't let anything go.

Selina climbed up the wall quickly and jumped off, disappearing into the darkness. Grabbing onto the craggy rocks of the wall, Bruce began climbing up, his athletic skills allowing him to scale the wall in seconds. He got to the top and looked down.

Selina was gone.

Bruce swung his body over the wall and dropped to the other side. It was really dark, and he knew the boys were back with the pizza and Clark would come looking for him soon. But he could also use the secret entrance to the Batcave in the large oak tree only thirty feet away, get into the suit, and follow her in the Batmobile.

He felt torn, just like he always felt torn between being Bruce and being Batman. It wasn't fair and –

"Look who we have here," a voice taunted.

Bruce turned to see Jonathan Crane standing by the wall, an awful smile on his face.

"Scarecrow," Bruce growled, annoyed at the sight of the thing, lanky man.

"No, no," Jonathan shook a finger at him, "tonight I am just Mr. Crane to you. I'm so sorry to do this, Mr. Wayne, but I need money to fund my next project."

"I'm not giving you money," Bruce said. "You belong in a cell in Arkham, but they're giving you time off for good behavior again, I see."

"You obviously keep up with the news," Jonathan noted. "I'd love to stay and chat, but Batman might show up any moment, and I prefer to kidnap my millionaire hostages without having to fight off annoying superheroes."

"You're going to kidnap me?" Bruce laughed. "I think you've been sniffing too much of your own fear toxin lately."

"No, but my associate has," Jonathan replied.

Bruce felt a presence behind him, and he whirled around to find a man with brown hair wearing a huge hat behind him. "Mad Hatter?"

"I'm just here as a favor to Crane," Hatter explained. "I don't want your money, Mr. Wayne. Though it might buy my Alice a pretty dress . . ."

"Oh, shut up," Jonathan ordered.

Bruce opened his mouth to tell both of them to beat it or else with something stung sharply on his neck. Bruce reached a hand up to feel the hard metal of the dart stuck in his neck, and he managed to pluck the dart out before the first wave of dizziness hit him.

The other side of his neck stung, and Bruce saw the Mad Hatter lower a small straw from his lips as Bruce reached up to pluck out the other dart. He could not even feel the second dart as he fell to his knees. As he slipped into darkness, he wondered if Selina had come to help the two villains or to warn him of their attack.


	4. Alone

Inside the manor, Clark went out to meet the boys as they hurried up the stairs with the food.

"Hey, guys, what's the rush?"

"We thought we saw Penguin's van," Dick said in a rush. "Where's Bruce?"

"He's in the family room," Clark motioned. "I thought Penguin was in Arkham."

Dick ran into the other room and came back, reporting, "He's not there."

Clark took off his glasses and X-rayed a full 360, turning all the way around. "He's not in the house."

"Oh, well," Tim shrugged as he opened the top pizza box. "More for us then."

"We're not eating without Bruce," Dick told him. "Close the box."

"Why?" Tim protested as he closed the top. "He's probably down in the Cave, got a new idea for some weapon that he wants to build. And then I have to clean up the Batcave."

"This isn't good," Dick said, casting a concerned look at Clark.

"I know," Tim kept complaining. "Last time he was making bullets to pulverize brick and guess who had to sweep up all the dust and brick chunks off the ground?"

"Will you shut up?" Dick said sharply.

A hurt look came over Tim's face. He was used to Bruce yelling, but Dick was a different story.

"Everyone calm down," Clark said in a voice that brooked no argument. "Bruce wouldn't just disappear without telling us, at least not anymore."

The boys didn't understand the last bit since they were not around when Clark gave Bruce a firm reminder that he was not to just disappear in the middle of the weekend without telling his boyfriend where he was going. By the end of the reminder, Bruce was wailing that he wouldn't step outside the Manor without Clark's permission, he wouldn't leave the room, he wouldn't leave Clark's side, if his boyfriend would just stop spanking him.

Clark had never meant Bruce to take things that far and he certainly did not want Bruce to ask permission from him, but the reminder had done some good as the next weekend the Joker had set up an elaborate ruse for Batman. Bruce had told Clark rather than going off by himself which was a good thing, because the Joker was especially nasty that night and had Batman been alone he would have found himself opening a door to face a round of armor-piercing bullets. Since Clark was there, he stepped in front of Bruce to deflect the bullets. They had captured the Joker, but Clark had shuddered to think what might have happened to Bruce if he had gone alone.

After that, he was sure Bruce wouldn't just leave without telling someone.

"I'm going to survey the grounds," Clark said. "You guys go check the Cave."

Dick hurried towards the secret entrance, and Tim groaned once at the pizza before following.

"It's probably nothing," Tim said as they rode the lift down. "I bet Bruce's mad because we got pizza so he's hiding until it's all cold and that way we can't enjoy it."

"He wouldn't do that," Dick said.

"It's Bruce," Tim argued. "I was late for dinner once because I was playing video games, and he made me stand by my chair for thirty minutes, staring at my food. Then I had to eat it stone-cold while he fired off homework questions so fast I could barely swallow."

"He let you play video games?" Dick demanded as they reached the top level of the Cave. "He never let me."

"Well," Tim grinned guiltily, "I kind of snuck a PSP into my bedroom and hide under my bed to play it. That time I lied and told him I was reading and didn't hear him, but he still got mad."

"And he didn't catch you lying?" Dick shook his head. "Man, Bruce is getting soft. Of course, if he was down here now, he would hear all this and then . . ."

"Bruce," Tim called out frantically into the Cave, "I was lying about lying. And I don't have a PSP. And that stands for Personal Safety Property, not PlayStation Portable. And I don't have either of those things. Bruce? Bruce?"

"He's not down here," Dick said though he started for the stairs to look down in the lower level. "And what the hell is Personal Safety Property?"

"A bullet-proof vest, maybe?" Tim suggested. "Bruce might buy it. He bought it when I told him that an MP3 player stood for Motion Perception in Three Directions."

Dick rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

Ten minutes later they met Clark up in the hall.

"Any luck?" Dick asked.

"No," Clark shook his head. "He's off the property. I can scan for up to a mile, but after that my vision gets too weak for accuracy. And I can't hear him either. He's not yelling or he's inside something that blocks the sound waves."

"Nothing was out of place downstairs," Dick reported. "Both suits were there and all the vehicles."

"Time to get into costume?" Tim asked, looking ready to go.

Clark hesitated. He didn't want to get the boys involved, but they were ready for action. And it was reassuring to see that no matter how many times they all fought and bickered and yelled, they were still a family who watched out for each other.

"I guess costumes would be a good idea," Clark nodded. "You two could drive the Batmobile – wait! I hear a car coming."

A moment later, a blue car pulled up right behind Dick's car and stopped. As the guys stepped out the front door, Dick broke into a broad smile.

"Babs," he jogged down the stairs and went to driver's side as the door swung open.

"Hey, Dick," Barbara Gordon smiled up at him.

"Let me help you," Dick reached into the car and pulled out her collapsible wheelchair.

"Grayson, I got it," she protested, but he had already unsnapped it on the drive. "You don't have to – Grayson, don't you dare!"

But Dick had already reached into the car and scooped her up in his arms, one arm under her knees and the other behind her back.

"You jerk, put me in my chair," Barbara protested. "I can do this by myself."

"I know you can," Dick grinned down at her as he carried her towards the house. "I just like any excuse to put my arms around you."

She made a prissy face, but then put both arms around his strong neck and pulled up to kiss his mouth. Then she turned to face the others.

"Hey, Tim, Clark. Why the long faces?"

"Bruce is missing," Tim said as he went to bring in Barbara's chair.

"Good," Barbara smiled. "I'll get to play com man down in the Cave while you go find him."

"You knew Bruce was going to go missing?" Clark raised an eyebrow.

"No, Dick called me earlier to stop by for food and a family evening," Barbara explained as Dick finally set her down in her chair inside the hall. "Though we all know what Grayson really wants."

Dick blushed suddenly and looked away. Tim watched, fascinated by the idea of a girl actually coming by with the intent of doing stuff like that with Dick. It made Tim feel all warm and embarrassed, but a part of him hoped he might get to watch them make out so he could figure out how it was done.

"Barbara," Clark said, half-disapproving as they all moved towards the secret entrance to the Cave again, "as much as I don't want to get involved between the two of you, you should know that Dick has been courting Starfire as well."

Barbara laughed at the old-fashioned word. "If by 'courting' you mean he's been humping everything in a skirt in Bludhaven, that would be fairly accurate."

"I have not," Dick protested as he helped push her wheelchair over the slight bump into the lift. "And for the record, Starfire came on to me. I was the victim there, what with all the floating around and glowing eyes."

"Is that true, Clark? Do you aliens seduce and victimize humans?" Barbara teased.

"When we find Bruce, I'll ask," Clark said shortly. He did not approve of such promiscuous talk, especially in front of Tim who was listening with huge eyes, but Clark thought it couldn't be worse than anything the boy heard at school.

"All right," Barbara pulled herself up to the main computer and began flipping on switches. A few of the eighteen monitor screens began to brighten, and the low hum of the gigantic machine filled the Cave. "We're in business now. Boys, in costume. Clark, take an ear piece so I can talk to you while you're flying," Barbara handed him a small black piece. "Dick, you take the Batmobile. Tim, you're on the bike."

"Yay," Tim cheered as he went to put on his Robin gear. Technically, he was grounded from the bike for trying a few stunts in the Cave when he thought Bruce wasn't home; Bruce had checked the cameras later and then had come the lecture and the grounding. But since Bruce wasn't here, Tim didn't think that grounding held much weight. Besides, he could always say that Barbara told him to do it, and everyone knew you never argued with the com man.

"Keep in touch with base," Barbara said as she began switching on the microphones. "This is a hunt and find mission only. Any disturbance outside the mission, including criminal activity or civilian unrest, must be reported to base. After this mission is completed successfully, those disturbances may be addressed. You may interfere in such disturbances only if human life is in danger."

"That's a lot of rules," Superman stepped around a crag of rock where he had changed into costume at superspeed.

"It's now protocol," Dick called out from behind one screen where he was pulling on the Nightwing costume. "A few years ago we got into the Great Debate of Priorities when we couldn't decide whether the first mission was more important than the second or the third. Batman started arguing with the com man," Dick grinned at the memory, "and she threatened to blow up his computer unless he reported all activities back to her."

"Don't ask me to be your com man if you aren't going to listen to me," Barbara shrugged.

"I liked it when she told Bruce where he could stick his Batarang," Tim smirked as he stepped out from his screen, now fully in the black and red Robin costume.

"That was great," Dick agreed with Tim. "That was the first time I've ever heard Bruce be completely silent for so long on radio."

"He doesn't have the nerve to yell at the crippled girl," Barbara smiled with satisfaction. "He's afraid he's going to hurt me. Fortunately, Dick here doesn't seem too bothered about my delicate state."

"Got to go," Dick sprinted towards the Batmobile, not sticking around to muddle his way through an explanation. He didn't think Barbara was being very fair, but it would be too awkward to explain it to Clark.

"Everyone's having sex," Tim shook his head. "Everyone but me."

"Hey, Drake!" Barbara barked out, cutting through his thoughts. "Stop whining and get on the bike. You'll get a girlfriend when you start growing facial hair. Or a boyfriend."

She smirked in Clark's direction, but he was already gone, flying up in the air.

As the two boys geared up the Batmobile and the bike, Barbara leaned back in her wheelchair and pulled the mic close. "Nightwing?"

"Yeah?" he asked as he slipped the car into gear, ready to tear out of the Cave.

"Is it important that I know why Bruce is missing?"

"Not really," Dick replied into his earpiece. "He just up and left so we're going to find him."

"This reminds me of the old days when he used to come find us," she said, nostalgia. "Remember when we went after Killer Moth in that abandoned farm outside of Gotham? It took forever to subdue him and we got all sweaty and hot, and we ended up in the haystack, just the two of us."

"Yeah, and Killer Moth just sat tied up on the milking stool and watched us," Dick laughed. "And when Batman showed up, I thought he was going to kill us both, especially when he realized we had used your bra to bind Killer Moth's hands."

"Excuse me," Superman's voice broke through, speaking into his own ear piece. "There are _other_ people on this line."

"Don't stop," Robin said quickly. "Talk more about the bra part."

"Get going," Barbara smiled. "Oracle out."

------

Bruce gradually became aware of something humming beneath him in a world of darkness. It took him a few moments, but he finally decided that he was in a car, probably the back of a van, that was moving.

When he tried to sit up, he found his hands were tied behind his back and his ankles were bound as well. His head hurt, but he breathed deeply, concentrating on drawing air into his lungs and then pushing it out hard, until the pain began to subside.

He tested his muscles and bones – nothing seemed too bruised or broken. After the dart knocked him out, they must have loaded his body into the van and driven off without roughing him up. That made Bruce furious, the thought that he could be overtaken so easily.

Of course, he wasn't expecting to be attacked as Bruce Wayne. As Mr. Wayne, he was usually safe from criminals and it was easy to let his guard down and relax. Well, never again!

Bruce twisted in the ropes. He could free himself fairly easily, but then he was faced with a problem. If he got loose and jumped on his attackers when they stopped the car to get him out, he could overpower him, but then they would get suspicious (once they woke up). Batman was a fighter, but Bruce Wayne was a playboy who shouldn't be able to fight criminals and win.

He would sit tight for now and see what they wanted. Chances were, they wanted money. Criminals fought against Batman for revenge or for fun or because they honestly thought they could beat him, but Bruce Wayne would only be good to hold for ransom and get tons of money.

Bruce twisted so he could feel his pockets. No, they had taken his cell phone. Damn. He could have called Clark to bring him a Batsuit and then Clark could have hidden and pretended to be Bruce Wayne while Batman fought off the criminals. Or knowing Clark, he would have Superman save the day which did not sit well at all with Bruce, but he was getting desperate.

Ugh, he hated having to rely on Clark. Bruce frowned as he leaned back against the wall of the van.

He remembered the good old days when it was just him. Him and his tools and his car, Batman against the world. But then he got Dick and it was Batman and Robin. And now Tim – Batman, Robin, and Nightwing. And then Barbara and sometimes Diana and always Clark now – Batman, Robin, Nightwing, Oracle, Wonder Woman, and Superman.

No! Too many people! Batman needed to go back to working alone. Clark was a great boyfriend and they were great together and all that, but Batman was going be alone from now on. Tim was grounded from the bike, and Batman would have the next month to work by himself without everyone else getting in the way.

Clark would protest, but Bruce planned to be calm, but firm.

"_No, Clark,"_ he would say, looking his boyfriend straight in the eye, _"Batman needs to show Gotham that he can work alone and win. I appreciate all you've done, but I need to work alone for a while."_

That was what he would say, and Clark couldn't argue with him because this wasn't Clark's town and he didn't own Bruce. Bruce needed to be more authoritative with his boy friend and let him know that they were equals and Clark could not keep trying to win over him or threaten to punish him.

"That's the problem," Bruce grumbled under his breath. "That Boy Scout thinks he's in charge now. Well, no one tells Batman what to do."

The van slowed down and stopped. The front door opened and then slammed shut.

Bruce smiled. He was ready to handle this all alone, just the way it should be.


	5. Rage

The door to the back of the van opened, and Bruce braced himself for the bright light. It was at that moment when the light blinded him that he was at his most vulnerable.

But because he was playing the helpless millionaire, he just winced at the light and lowered his head.

Arms grabbed him and pulled him out.

"Good grief," Jonathan Crane panted as he helped herd Bruce along. "You weigh a ton, Wayne. You live at the gym?"

"Something like that," Bruce muttered, resisting the urge to thrust his elbow to the side and knock the wind out of the thin man. Bruce knew he could fight Jonathan and Mad Hatter, who was on the other side, with his hands still tied behind his back. Jervis was a small, goofy looking man whose absurd facial expressions made Bruce want to punch him right between the eyes every time he saw him. Stupid men deserved to be punished accordingly, in Batman's opinion.

They were dragging him into a warehouse that seemed deserted, except for a bunch of worn crates and tables. Bruce glanced around, feigning helplessness as he quickly spotted each possible escape route. There were so many doors and windows and hiding places behind the large crates that Bruce wanted to snort in disgust at their choice of hideouts. Batman would have turned this place upside down in a few seconds.

Bruce scowled – why couldn't have Tim been kidnapped? If they had grabbed Tim and held him for ransom, Batman could have stormed this place and rescued Tim who knew enough to pretend to be helpless if he was ever kidnapped as Tim Drake and not Robin, and then they would have been back home by now.

Of course, Bruce would have been furious with Tim and given him a well-earned lectured before sending him up to bed to think about his careless behavior. The fact that Bruce had gotten kidnapped only made him more upset. He would have to get himself out of here and find a way to get back home so no one ever found out that Jonathan and Jervis had overpowered him.

"Sit him here," the two smaller men pushed Bruce in a wooden chair and tied him down to it.

"Hurry, hurry," Jonathan urged. "If Penguin found out we borrowed his van, he's going to pitch a fit until we find a way to repay him."

"I told you we should have ripped off a van," Jervis retorted, adjusting his huge hat.

"That would have alerted Batman before we had a chance to nab the millionaire."

"You're so scared of Batman," Jervis jeered. "Afraid he's going beat you up while you beg for mercy."

"I don't beg," Jonathan declared. "And he doesn't scare me. He's just a big buffoon in a stupid mask."

"Glad you're not scared – because there he is," Jervis pointed up to the rafters.

Jonathan immediately ducked and ran back a few feet before Jervis burst into laughter.

"Psych!" Jervis laughed. "You sure you're not scared?"

Swearing, Jonathan marched back to face Jervis. Bruce waited for a few minutes, hoping the two men might start fighting and he figure out an escape while they bickered. But Jonathan just marched over to a table and ordered, "Help me write a ransom note, moron, before I stuff your face in that stupid hat."

They pulled out a laptop and opened it, and then there was a slight scuffle for who would get to sit in the chair in front of the table. Jonathan won and he got to sit down and Jervis had to bend over him to watch Jonathan type.

"All right," Jonathan opened a word-processing document, "let's get this rolling."

"Who are you writing the ransom note to?" Bruce asked, careful to keep his voice neutral and not challenging. He didn't want to get them riled up too soon. He knew he could get himself free in a matter of seconds, but if either of them had a gun, it might be too late.

"Your butler," Jervis said with satisfaction. "Albert."

"Alfred's out for the weekend," Bruce told him.

"Then that brat that lives with you – Tom."

"Tim, and he's only fourteen. How' s he going to get money for you? He doesn't have more than his allowance. Are you sure it's worth kidnapping me for a few twenties?"

"That older kid," Jervis insisted. "He'll have money."

"Dick was disinherited," Bruce said sharply. This was not true, but the fact that they thought Dick could find a way to the fortune made Bruce angry. Dick only got whatever his adopted father gave him, though the boy was never grateful and never wanted to take it.

"Jeez, man," Jervis blinked, "kind of harsh. I thought you millionaires were supposed to go easy on your kids and spoil them."

"We'll ransom you to your company," Jonathan snapped. "Wayne Industries will pay millions to get you back."

"It's Friday night, and no one is at the office," Bruce said. "And the only person who could authorize a move of that much money is me!"

"There has to be someone who would pay to get you back," Jervis argued. "Come on – we need money."

"Get a job," Bruce said flatly.

Jonathan jumped up and whirled around, pulling out a black gun and pointing it right at Bruce's face. "Shut up," he ordered. "You got fine seconds to tell us how to get money, or I'm shooting you."

Bruce wanted to ground out "I do not help terrorists," but he knew that was not something Bruce Wayne would say. So he flinched away from the gun and whimpered, "Okay, okay, let me get to the computer and I'll send you money."

"That's what I thought," Jonathan smirked. "See," he brandished the gun at Jervis, "a little fear makes the greatest men turn into sniveling cowards."

Jervis nodded in agreement as he untied Bruce from the chair.

"I knew Wayne here would be particularly afraid of guns," Jonathan continued with an awful satisfied look on his face. "Ever since his parents were gunned down, he can't stand the sight of them."

"Don't talk about my parents," Bruce said in a low voice as he stood.

"Oh, what are you going to do?" Jonathan sneered. "You're so frightened by the sight of this you're about to wet your pants. Hate the reminder of poor mommy and daddy getting shot while you stood by helpless and crying. Nice to see that cowardice runs in the family."

Bruce grabbed the chair he had been sitting in and whirled around to slam it into Jonathan. The thin man went down with a cry and the gun skidded across the concrete floor. Jervis went for it, but Bruce stuck his foot out and Jervis tripped over it, falling to the floor. Bruce bent to yank the huge hat down over Jervis's face before turning back to Jonathan.

"Don't talk about my parents," Bruce yelled as he grabbed a leg of the broken chair and began beating Jonathan over the back with it. Even in his white-hot fury, Bruce knew not to use all his strength, but he hit Jonathan with all the force that a man in his late-thirties who exercised frequently would have. "Don't ever talk about my parents. My father could have beaten you any time he wanted, you ugly bastard!"

Jonathan screamed bloody-murder on the ground as Bruce hit him. The wooden leg thudded against bone and muscle in Crane's back, and Bruce knew the man would have huge bruises for a long time, but Bruce did not care.

No one talked about his parents that way. The thought that someone would try to tear them down, would mock their deaths, unleashed a rage inside that made him angry enough to tear people apart with his bare hands. He wanted Jonathan to feel his pain, to understand the devastation that came from watching your parents shot in front of you. Your sweet mother, who kissed your forehead everyday before you left for school and held you in her lap when you got upset because bullies teased you at school, who called you her Brucie though you thought you were too old for such a nickname – to see her shot and hear her screaming as she died.

And your father, the man who was bigger than the whole world, who read to you each night before bed in a gentle voice, who let you come sit in his study while he worked, who used to greet you with a hug everyday when he came home from work and would sometimes lift you off your feet in a bear hug and tickle your sides while you squealed and hugged him back – to see him looking in your eyes as he died and you watched his blood pool onto the red snow as you stood alone in the alley with their bodies . . .

Bruce brought the wood up and prepared to smash it down on Jonathan's skull.

"Mr. Wayne," a new voice spoke out of the haze of anger and rage.

Bruce glanced up at he saw Superman floating down from an open window. Bruce stepped back, blinking as he lowered the club. On the ground, Jonathan did not move. Jervis had disappeared.

"He – he was talking about my parents," Bruce stammered. He felt so overwhelmed that he wanted to be sick. His stomach was twisting and his eyes were burning and he wished he could just start running until he outran the pain and hurt.

"Okay, I understand, Mr. Wayne," Superman kept up the ruse in case Jonathan was still coherent enough to hear. "Let's get you out of here and then I'll take Dr. Crane to a hospital."

"I'm fine," Bruce insisted. "Just take him and I'll get back home by myself."

Superman looked doubtful, but he reached down and scooped up Jonathan who groaned when his tenderized back hit Superman's rock-hard arms.

Bruce went out into the darkening night and tried to take several breaths to calm himself. It had been nearly thirty years since he watched his parents die, and he still left that same helpless fury whenever someone mentioned their deaths.

A low rumble filled the night, and he turned to see the Batmobile gliding up behind him followed by Tim on the bike. The car and bike drove into the open doorway of the warehouse, parking right behind the Penguin's van.

A second later, Nightwing swung out of the Batmobile. "We found him," Nightwing said, touching a hand to activate the small mic on his mask. "See you at base, Superman. Oracle, Nightwing signing out."

"What do you think you're doing?" Bruce growled as he approached his car.

"We're rescuing you, Mr. Wayne," Robin said from the bike. "We heard you were kidnapped, and we're here to help you."

"Shut up, Robin," Bruce ordered before turning to Nightwing. "Why are you driving the Batmobile without Batman?"

"Um, Batman was unavailable," Nightwing smirked. "Batman couldn't figure out how to escape two very weak criminals so the younger superheroes were called in to assist the – _ahem_! – helpless Dark Knight."

Bruce looked right at Nightwing, and for a second, Robin grew so dizzy on the bike he nearly fell off. It was one thing to challenge Bruce at home in the Manor, but no one ever questioned Batman while they were on the job.

"You're disinherited," Bruce hissed, so low no one but Nightwing could hear.

"Whatever, old man," Nightwing quipped. "Now do you want a ride home in the Batmobile, or do you need us to call for a ride? I understand your adopted son, Mr. Grayson, is visiting you this weekend. Perhaps he can be troubled to come pick you up. I've heard he's very understanding of his father's insane impulses."

Bruce stalked over to the passenger side of the Batmobile and yanked the door open. He got in and slammed it, and Robin rode the bike forward to whisper to Nightwing,

"Don't make him mad."

"Are you kidding?" Nightwing grinned. "I have waited years for the chance to rub something like this in his face. I'm enjoying every moment of the ride home. Stay close, Robin."

Dick swung into the Batmobile and started the car. Bruce was sitting rigid in the seat. Nightwing opened his mouth, ready to make his adopted father absolutely miserable. But then he hesitated, and slipped off his mask. He pushed the mask between the seat and the controls, wedging it in.

"You okay, Bruce?" Dick asked.

"Drive home," Bruce ordered.

"No, man, you're shaking," Dick realized. "What happened in there? Superman said you were having problems controlling yourself. Did you beat Crane up?"

"Drive home," Bruce repeated.

Dick looked at his father's stony face, the coldness in his eyes. "Damn it, Bruce," Dick said softly. "Just talk about it – tell me what's going on. I can't help you if I don't know what's going on."

Bruce said nothing.

"I'm your son," Dick went on. "I lived with you for years. I fought beside you as Robin. I was ready to die for you out there in battle. If anything ever happens to you, I'm going to take care of Tim and Alfred. Talk to me. Tell me what happened."

Bruce did not move – he did not even seem to be breathing.

Dick waited a second and then slowly put the car into drive. They pulled out of the warehouse with Tim trailing behind. Bruce stayed silent, and Dick felt himself dying inside as he realized that the man who meant so much to him would not share the pain inside.

------

High above Metropolis, Superman flew back to the Manor, after delivering Jonathan to the ER. The doctors had asked him what was wrong, but Superman had handed him over without a word and flown away.

As he got airborne, he suddenly heard Dick's voice. It took a moment, but Superman finally realized that the young man must have taken his mask off and somehow the talk button on the mic got jammed on.

Superman felt guilty for listening, but the longer Dick kept pleading for Bruce to talk, the more upset Superman got. He could hear the pleading in Dick's voice, the need to have his father act like a responsible adult.

The moment Superman landed at the Manor, he changed back in Clark Kent and went straight down to the Cave. He was few minutes ahead of the others getting back.

"Hey, Clark," Barbara smiled from the computers. "Good work – we're extra fast with your vision and speed."

"Yeah," Clark nodded. "I'm going upstairs to heat the pizza. Will you tell the guys to come on up when they get here? You, too – we'd like to have you stay."

"Sure thing," Barbara said as she started turning the machine off. "Though you know Bruce is going to want to go fight someone tonight."

"That," Clark said grimly, "is exactly what I'm counting on."


	6. Sorry

Dinner was a cold affair, everyone sitting around the table, eating reheated pizza. Tim watched Dick and Barbara mainly, eyes darting back and forth between the two while he stuffed his mouth with pizza. Clark sat beside Tim, watching Bruce, who sat at the head of the table and ate two slices of pizzas with an expression like he was chewing black beetles.

Clark asked his share of questions, mainly those to Barbara whose quick wit and smart answers kept the dinner from being awkwardly silent. Barbara nettled Dick mercilessly, teasing the young man about his hair and the way women swooned over him ("They come for the good looks, Dick, but they always leave once you open you mouth.") Dick protested, but from the guilty grin on his face, Clark could tell that Dick like Barbara talking about him, simply because it meant Barbara noticed and remembered specific things about him. Clark fleeting wondered why they weren't together permanently – they made a terrific couple.

She was in the middle of a long story that included Nightwing rushing through the streets of Bludhaven in a mask and boxers because some villain had forced him to strip and he had to chase the crook down to get his clothes back and arrest him. Tim was laughing so hard he nearly choked and Coke was coming out his nose, and Dick kept insisting Barbara was exaggerating, when Clark realized Bruce was gone, his chair empty.

"Okay, guys," Clark stood up, pushing his chair back. "Finish eating, and then if you don't mind cleaning up, I'll go help Bruce close up the Cave. We should all get to bed early. I was thinking we could all wake up early and have breakfast out and then go see the first showing of a movie, like the 10:30 one."

"That way we could patrol tomorrow night," Dick nodded.

Tim grinned, excited at the prospect of a movie and patrol with everyone along for the fun.

"Sure, Clark," Barbara nodded.

Clark understood that she planned to stay for the night, and he felt relieved that she didn't have to drive home alone. Quickly, he left the dining room and went down into the Cave.

He found Bruce at the control, typing furiously into the computer and watching five of the screens that were on. Bruce had the suit on, the sleek black fitting over his limbs in a way that would have been hot if Clark had been in that sort of mood. Bruce did not have the mask on, so he seemed stuck in between his human self and his alter ego, not fully Bruce or Batman.

"What are you doing?" Clark asked quietly.

"Running surveillance," Bruce replied.

Clark paused to see if more was coming. Finally, he prodded, "Why?"

"Because I'm not letting anymore sloppiness go down," Bruce retorted.

"You weren't sloppy."

"I let myself get kidnapped right outside the grounds of my own property. Then I let myself give into my emotional vulnerability to the point that I risked exposing Batman just to punish Crane."

"Bruce, you're human. No one expects –"

"I don't get sloppy," Bruce cut through, his voice hard and dangerous. "When I do, people get hurt."

"But we showed up and everything turned out okay."

"Okay?" Bruce sneered, his eyes still on the screens and his fingers still flying over the keyboards. "You had Nightwing, Robin, and Oracle with you, and you all still took an hour to find me. That is slow and sloppy."

"Excuse me?" Clark let his voice dip a bit, a note of stern warning coming though.

"Between the four of you, you should be able to locate me in twenty minutes, no more."

"We didn't realize you were missing until the boys got back and I couldn't find you," Clark said. "I went to set the table and you disappeared. Where did you go?"

"I went – nowhere," Bruce broke off abruptly.

"You said you went outside the property. What were you doing? We were going to eat once they got back."

"I had to take care of something."

"Bruce, who did you go see?" Clark demanded.

"Me," a female voice cut through the cave.

Both men whipped around to see Catwoman step out from a dark corner, slipping her mask off to reveal her face.

"Selina," Bruce growled, his expression furious. He yanked himself out of his chair and started for her, intending to tear her to pieces. Clark interceded, grabbing Brace around the torso before the man could choke Selina.

"Oooo, naughty, naughty," she shook her finger in his face, her body beyond his reach. He strained to grab her but Clark held him fast.

"Calm down," Clark ordered. "Selina, why are you here?"

"You said you weren't coming back," Bruce spat at her.

"I wasn't," she replied. "I planned to never see either of you again, but then I heard what happened to Crane. I was going to tell you that he and Jervis were planning to kidnap Bruce Wayne and ransom him, but you were so mean to me, I left."

"You came here to warn him?" Clark asked, surprised.

"I did. I was going to help you subdue them and take them back to Arkham, like a good kitty, but Bruce was so cruel to me –" she stopped swallowing hard. Then her eyes glassed with tears, and she blinked hastily.

"Don't believe her," Bruce ordered to Clark, but Clark took Bruce by the shoulders and turned him so they stood face to face.

"What did you say to her?"

"Nothing. She was stalking around my house and I told her to get lost."

"Liar! He said I would never feel love, that I would die alone and miserable. And then he called me a whore."

"You are a whore," Bruce snapped at her.

"Oh, and how many beds have you jumped in and out of, playboy?" Selina shot right back.

"That's enough," Clark decided. "Selina, you came here to warn him, but you left after he was rude to you, correct?"

She nodded, her bottom lip slightly trembling. Bruce wanted to tear her to shreds for looking so sad and innocent, just the right buttons to push for someone old-fashioned and chivalrous like Clark.

"And had you just been polite to her, she would have told you about Crane and Jervis, and you wouldn't have been kidnapped, would you?" Clark turned to Bruce. "And then you wouldn't have beaten up Crane, and we wouldn't have had to come looking for you, and we wouldn't have a whole evening ruined, and you wouldn't be in trouble right now."

Bruce's eyes widened the slightest bit in disbelief. "_I'm_ in trouble? She comes over and stalks me and taunts me, and then you're mad at me? Be mad at her. If she hadn't been so – so –" unable to find the right word, Bruce gestured impatiently to Selina, as if to imply that everything about her was the whole problem.

"Both of you acted like children," Clark decided. "But only one of you is my boyfriend. And only one person in this room has been moody, short-tempered, and grouchy since I arrived."

"Ha-ha," Selina smirked at Bruce. "Looks like Daddy isn't happy with you."

"Selina, don't push it," Clark warned.

When she said nothing, Bruce got even more upset at her. "You go along with what he wants, but you make my life miserable? Get out, Selina, and this time really don't come back."

"Hell, no," she smirked. "I'm not leaving until I get to see you punished. Go ahead, Clark, roll up your sleeve, put this bad boy over your knee, and show him how much you care. In fact, I brought something to help." With a wicked grin, she pulled a wooden-back hairbrush out of her pocket. "And I want him bare this time."

For the next few moments, Clark struggled to keep hold of Bruce who did his best to break free and do bodily harm to Selina. She danced around them, laughing and teasing as Clark tried to rein in his irate boyfriend.

"That's it – fight more," she called to Bruce. "You're only going to get a longer spanking in a few minutes."

"I'll rip your face off, bitch!" Bruce roared at her.

In the end, Clark sat down on the chair at the computer controls and flung Bruce over one knee, trapped his legs with the other, and held his arms at the small of his back. Bruce twisted and yelled obscenities for a good while, but Clark was resolved and eventually Bruce wore himself out, panting hard and giving the occasional squirm to see if he could break free.

"He's got stamina," Selina nodded. "Doesn't give up easily."

"Stop riling him up," Clark told her. "I should really make you leave. You did a lot of damage tonight."

"No, Clark," immediately, Selina was all innocent eyes and vulnerable lips. "I came to tell you because I wanted to honor our agreement."

"What agreement?" Bruce grunted as he struggled to get up.

"I asked her to watch out for you when I wasn't here," Clark said.

"You what? You asshole, you had her spy on me."

"Because you go around beating people half to death. I should have sorted you out when I first got here, when you were arguing with Dick and Tim. We might have had a pleasant evening after that."

"You always make it my fault!"

"And whose fault should it be? Dick, who wants to make it on his own but still cares about you? Tim, who just wants to be a family together? Selina, who loved you at one time? Me, who just wanted to have a fun weekend with my boyfriend's family after a long week of work and crime-fighting?"

Bruce said nothing. Selina was also silent, her eyes on both of the men.

"All right," Bruce finally broke out, "I won't fight anymore. Let me up so I can go."

"Go where?"

"Out patrolling."

"You're not going anywhere tonight. You're upset and I'm not letting you go take out your rage and guilt on a poor city."

"You're not my babysitter," Bruce was sweating from trying to get off Clark's knee. "Why do I have to be the one that gets in trouble?"

"I don't know – why do you have to act this way?" Clark retorted. "I feel awful about what they said about your parents, but would your mom and dad have condoned this sort of behavior? Would they like the way you treated Dick and Tim?"

Selina's mouth dropped open. She had never been able to say anything about Bruce's parents without him blowing the situation completely out of proportion.

"Clark," Bruce's voice was caught between a whine and a sob.

"I want you to act better. You can be a nice, kind man when you want to be, and I plan to see that you behave that way more often. Now, I'm going to spank you, and then we're going upstairs and that's the end of it. Tomorrow will be a better day, or so help me, we'll come right back down here."

"The boys will hear," Bruce objected.

"No, I sent them to bed."

"What about Selina?"

"Miss Kyle," Clark was suddenly formal as he looked at her, "if you decide to stay this time, I expect you to admit your blame in this part, namely that you taunted Bruce needlessly. If you admit to that, I'm giving you ten swats with the hairbrush. If you don't, you can leave and I don't want to see you again."

Selina hesitated. She looked down at the hairbrush, torn by the choice of getting to see Bruce punished and saving her own behind. "You would hit a woman?"

"No, I'd discipline a female friend who keeps riling up my boyfriend," Clark replied.

"Fine," she gave in, "but you can't swing as hard as you do with him."

"Fair enough." Clark grabbed Bruce and stood him up on his feet, warning, "You try to run, and I'll double yours."

Bruce said nothing as he watched Selina, barely able to believe that he was going to see the female fatale, the brazen Catwoman, submit to a paddling by Superman.

Selina edged towards Clark, holding out the hairbrush. He took it, and she hesitated one moment before bending over his lap. Clark's legs were like iron, and she wondered how Bruce could ever be with someone so stone-like after years of soft-bodied women. Then a loud thwack sounded, and she gasped as the hairbrush burned around her suit-covered rear.

"Ow," she hissed, but another came just as sharp.

"Jeez, Clark, not so hard," Bruce protested.

Selina rolled her eyes. He shouldn't be concerned about her – she planned to goad Clark into harder and harder swats when it was Bruce's time.

"You be quiet," Clark instructed as he continued to paddle. It felt different to have a woman over his lap. Bruce was all bulk and muscles, but Selina's body curved around his legs, and the hairbrush spanned most of her bottom.

On swat eight, Selina cried out for him to stop, and Bruce actually crossed his arms and turned away, too upset to stand by and do nothing while she took her punishment. Clark laid the next two down in quick succession, and Selina stood up on shaky legs.

"There," she was nearly choked with tears. "I'm done. You can't make me leave."

"Go sit in that chair," Clark motioned to another control chair about eight feet away.

Wincing, Selina did as he instructed, blinking back tears.

"All right, your turn," Clark grabbed Bruce's hand to pull him near. "Suit down."

"You let her keep hers up!"

"Because it's only leather. I'm not spanking you over bulletproof Kevlar. You can keep your boxers on."

Scowling, Bruce took off the suit, piece by piece, until he stood in a tee shirt, boxers, and socks. "I get ten, too, right?"

"Don't be absurd," Clark pulled him over his lap. "You should have gotten ten for talking to Tim and Dick the way you did. You got a lot more than that coming now."

Clark took the hairbrush again and began to rain down swats on Bruce's bottom.

Selina felt sore and uncomfortable, but she was able to ignore her own discomfort as she watched Bruce under Clark's stern hand. She loved the sounds he made, the feared Dark Knight of Gotham getting soundly spanked. She loved the expressions that passed over his face, his features twisting in pain and then his mouth moving hard as he tried to accept the pain and get himself under control. Every so often, he would bite his bottom lip, tucking that lip in between his teeth to keep from crying out, and Selina found herself washed in a wave of heat that had nothing to do with her own spanking.

"Please, Clark," Bruce whined. "That has to be – ugh! – at least thirty."

"Let it out, Bruce." Clark replied, still swinging the hairbrush.

Bruce let out a bellow that made Selina jump in her chair. "You bastard! I don't want to let it out. I want to keep it inside, like I've always done. I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry I yelled at Tim. I'm not sorry I fought with Dick. I'm not sorry I called her a whore. I'm not sorry I pounded Crane into the floor. And I'm not sorry Mom and Dad died because they wouldn't have liked me anyway."

After that last declaration, Bruce lowered his head as the tears came. And they came hard and fast until his body was wracked with sobs and his whole frame shook.

Clark did not even pause in his swats. He seemed determined to exorcise the guilt out of his boyfriend, and he kept popping that hairbrush down as Bruce kept releasing tears and anguish.

"Are we about done?" Clark asked. "Can we move forward from here or do you need another round while I explain to you how much your parents did love you, just like the boys and I do?"

"Nooooo!" Bruce wailed. "No more – I'll be good."

"Selina," Clark looked at her, signaling it was time for her to go.

She stood up and came to stand beside Bruce. "Shhh," she soothed as she brushed his damp hair back.

He looked up at her, his face red and streaked with tears. She smiled at him and leaned down to press a soft kiss against his sweaty forehead. "Find me later," she told Clark. "We can talk then."

Clark gave a nod, and she slipped away.

"Five more," Clark said as he raised the brush again.

Bruce gave a sob, but he didn't protest. Clark gave him the last five at superspeed, so fast that Bruce stopped breathing at the impact of the pain.

"Oowww, Claaaark!" he wailed. "Why? Why do you have to do that?"

"Because it does you a world of good." Clark lifted him up and set him down on the same knee. Bruce grimaced at the pain, and he put his arms around Clark's neck to lift himself up and relieve the pressure.

"I hate you," Bruce muttered as he leaned his head against Clark's shoulder. "I'm going to start drinking Kryptonite protein drinks to stop you from doing this again."

Clark chuckled, a deep rumble against Bruce, and Bruce just pulled him closer.

"Doesn't that feel better?" Clark asked. "Do you feel as bad and upset as you did fifteen minutes ago or four hours ago?"

"You punished me – don't make me talk," Bruce grumbled.

Clark nodded, the silent understanding that Bruce would never admit he needed punishment as a release from guilt and that he would protest until his dying day that he did not want Clark to spank him.

"You ready for bed or do we need more time down here?"

"No," Bruce gave a long sigh, "we can go up." He swiped a hand over his face, once again surprised to see tears.

Clark squeezed him close and planting a kiss on his nose. Bruce blinked at the affectionate gesture and shook his head.

"Only you could turn my ass into ground meat and then kiss me like that."

"And don't you forget it," Clark helped Bruce stand and then went into a superspeed to put up the Batsuit while Bruce pulled on his clothes.

They turned off the lights to the Cave, Bruce smart enough to not venture a last request to go patrolling. They rode the elevator up, and Bruce reached back once to rub while Clark was fiddling with controls.

"We're going to movies early in the morning," Clark explained as they turned off the downstairs lights and headed for the stairs.

"I don't want to go to the movies. Tim can't sit still, and Dick hogs all the popcorn," Bruce complained as they mounted the stairs.

"I'll sit by Tim and we'll get you your own popcorn," Clark laughed.

They rounded the corner, and Clark suddenly put his arm on Bruce's shoulder, nodding his head down the hallway.

In front of Dick's bedroom, Tim was crouched down. He had a glass in his hand, and he held it up to the closed door with ear against the bottom, listening intently for any sounds that might be coming from the other side of the door.

Bruce's face darkened, and he strode forward towards the eavesdropper.


	7. Family

_Ten minutes earlier_

"Oh, you boys," Barbara scoffed as she wheeled herself up to the mirror and reached for the hairbrush. "I'm surprised anything gets done here without a woman to see to all of you."

"Now, that's sexist," Dick laughed as he leaned against one of the bed's wooden posts. He watched her start brushing her red hair, gazing at the strands sliding through the bristles.

After a few minutes, Dick wandered over to her side and took the brush. He stood beside her, brushing her hair. She leaned back and sighed as his rough fingers played with her hair, soothing her scalp and reaching down to rub her neck and shoulders.

"That feels good," she sighed. "A little to the right. There, that's the spot."

"You always feel good," Dick murmured. He leaned down to kiss her on top of the head, and then Barbara pulled him down so they could kiss properly.

They made out for a few minutes, and then Dick pulled back.

He held a finger to his lips as he looked towards the doorway. "Someone's out there," he whispered.

Barbara looked towards the door, and sure enough, she could see the shadow of someone kneeling outside the door. She lifted her eyebrows in question.

"Tim?" Dick whispered. "You want to have some fun with him?"

Barbara nodded, smiling mischievously. "What are you thinking?" she whispered back.

Dick's eyes twinkled with naughtiness. "Oh, Barbara," he said in a normal voice, a little louder than usual. "Oh, yes, take the bra off."

"Here goes the bra," Barbara played along. "Goodbye bra."

"It's coming undone," Dick grinned. "What? Oh, no, your boobs are falling down to your knees. There they go all the way down."

Something clattered on the other side of the door, but Barbara pushed down a laugh.

"It's okay, Dick. Sometimes I take them off altogether. You know how I like sex without any breasts on."

"Oh, oh, right there Barbara!" Dick bit his lip to stop from snorting in laughter. "Yes, I love it when you rub my wrists! Do my elbows next!"

"Only if you tickle my cheeks first. No girl can bear to have sex without getting her cheeks tickled!"

On the other side of the door, Tim craned to hear any sound he could. He tried not to breathe, not believing his own good luck at getting to hear his older brother get it on with Barbara. He pressed the glass as hard as he could against the door, wishing he had time to go down into the Batcave and snatch the real listening devices that Bruce had designed. Tim would have liked a video camera in there as well, if he had to be honest.

Then without warning, strong hands grabbed him around the ribs, lifting him up to his feet.

"Eeee!" he squeaked in surprised.

Bruce said nothing as he picked his youngest ward up and carried him to his room, gripping Tim under his arms and keeping him a few inches off the ground so he couldn't walk. Tim didn't struggle, but the minute they reached his bedroom, he launched into a round of pleading.

"No, Bruce, I didn't mean to listen. I was just going by, and I heard something so I stopped for just a second."

Clark followed them in and shut the door. He marveled at Bruce's strength of will when the man, who had been thoroughly spanked not minutes before, sat down on the bed without even wincing. Tim whined as he got pulled towards Bruce.

"No, no, don't punish me. I know what I was doing was wrong. Please, Bruce. Clark? Clark, tell him no."

Clark blinked at being included, and he felt even further shocked when Bruce looked up at him for a second. Clark nodded sternly, but Bruce lectured Tim,

"You don't lie to me, and Clark is not here to get you out of trouble. You respect people's privacy in this house."

"But Dick gets to go into her room," Tim objected.

"Dick is an adult and what he and Barbara do together is their business and not yours," Bruce scolded as he tipped Tim over his lap and secured him with one firm hand on his back. "You remember this the next time you feel the need to spy on other people in this house."

Bruce pulled his hand back and smacked Tim's bottom soundly. The boy whimpered, and Clark shifted slightly. He felt sure Bruce would never purposefully hurt his teenage son, but he wondered if Bruce would take his own frustration out on the boy. Yet, Clark did not want to step in between them, undermining Bruce's authority and making Tim think that he could use Clark to intervene whenever Tim got in trouble.

"Ow, no, I'm sorry," Tim cried out as he was spanked. "Just stop! I'll do what you want. I'll train more and I'll study more and I won't argue and I'll get rid of my video games."

"What!" Bruce barked out. "When did you get video games?"

"I got a few for my PSP," Tim reached up to swipe away two big tears that fell from his eyes. "I spend my allowance on them."

"Your allowance is suspended from now on," Bruce said as he spanked four more times. "I obviously have been far too lenient on you, a mistake I plan to remedy immediately. Since you've been engaging in such shameful behavior, I will make sure that you have more constructive ways to spend your days, starting tomorrow morning."

He swatted Tim five more times and then set him on his feet. "Bathroom," Bruce pointed a finger. "And then straight to bed."

Tim streaked towards the bathroom and shut the door, but the sounds of his sobs came from the other side.

Bruce looked at Clark sharply, but Clark dropped his gaze to the ground.

"Out with it," Bruce ordered.

"No," Clark shook his head, "I have no right to tell you how to raise your children."

"Tell me what you're thinking," Bruce demanded.

"I think you know what I'm thinking," Clark looked straight at him.

Bruce considered him for a second, but then he sighed and stood. He went to the door and waited. After about five minutes, Tim came out in pajamas, blinking very red eyes, but not crying. Bruce reached for him, and Tim flinched away.

"None of that," Bruce put a hand on his shoulder. "I hope you learned a good lesson."

Tim nodded, saying nothing.

Clark sent Bruce an encouraging look, and Bruce scowled, but he moved his hand onto the back of Tim's neck and pulled him in for a hug. A confused look crossed Tim's face, but then he threw himself into Bruce's arms and hugged him as tight as he possibly could.

"I'm sorry, really I am. I'm so sorry," Tim babbled as he hugged his adopted father. "I promise I'll be good, I never meant to be bad."

"You're not bad," Bruce sighed. "But you can be extremely disobedient, and I'm not allowing it anymore."

"Okay, okay," Tim sniffed. "Just don't be mad at me. Don't be mad."

Bruce avoided Clark's look as he walked the boy over to his bed. Tim's response was completely out of proportion, in Bruce's opinion. He had given the boy barely a dozen smacks, and he felt irritated at how distraught Tim became.

Once in bed, Tim rolled on his side towards Bruce and gave the man the saddest look Clark had ever seen. The teary eyes, the flushed cheeks, the miserable lips – Clark felt his heart pang in sadness for the kid.

"Go to sleep," Bruce ordered. "Clark, come on."

They went, Bruce shutting the door on Tim's sniffles.

Clark stared down at the floor.

"What?" Bruce growled.

"I didn't say anything."

"No, but you look it. You think I was too harsh?"

"He shouldn't have eavesdropped," Clark admitted. "And then he shouldn't have lied about it. That behavior should be corrected."

"But?" Bruce prompted.

Clark hesitated, torn between wanting to speak his mind and respecting Bruce as a father.

"Spit it out," Bruce ordered.

"Well, as your friend who wants to support you, I wish you would have handled that with a little more care about Tim's feelings. And as a fellow crime fighter, I wish you would understand that good leadership does not mean you have to be so harsh and unbending."

"And as my boyfriend?" Bruce challenged.

"As your boyfriend, I wonder if another round over my knee would adjust your attitude," Clark hissed.

Bruce flushed and he glanced to Tim's closed door and then down to Barbara's closed door. "We're up here now – you can't do that when the children are around."

"No, I can't," Clark said quietly. "Because I respect you and your authority as well as your feelings. I would never want to be too harsh with you."

They stood there for a second, glaring at each other, a silent battle of wills. Bruce finally sighed (more of a snort of disgust) and whirled to stomp back to Tim's room. He opened the door and said,

"Stop crying. Go to sleep because we're spending tomorrow morning as a family, going to the movies."

"Really?" Tim pushed himself up to his elbows.

"Yes, and we're going to have a good time, whether you like it or not."

"Popcorn and candy, too?"

"Don't push it," Bruce shut the door.

Clark tried to hide his smile, but Bruce pointed a finger at him.

"Do not make this worse. We're going to bed before you make this worse."

"Indeed," Clark followed him, "I wouldn't want to do anything to make this whole matter worse."

Half an hour later, they were snuggled in bed. Well, Bruce was on his side and Clark snuggled next to him, spooning him tight. He expected Bruce to start fussing about what happened in the Cave. But for once, Bruce settled down and went to sleep.

-----

"I want to sit in the front, in the third row," Tim balanced his popcorn, drink, and candy as he waited for Dick to grab napkins.

"We have to sit in the handicap row," Clark reminded him, glancing down at Barbara.

"You don't have to sit with me," Barbara began, but Bruce had already reached out and popped Tim on the back of the head for such a senseless remark.

"But we can probably sit anywhere," Clark assured them, "especially since someone bought out the whole theater for us."

"I wanted to make sure we got good seats," Bruce protested.

"It's a morning show – there wouldn't be more than five other people in here," Clark shook his head.

"But they might want our seats," Dick grinned.

Ten minutes later, they were in the dark theater. Dick handed Tim his popcorn and drink and swooped in to pick up Barbara out of her wheelchair.

"Grayson," she gave in with an amused sigh, "must you?"

"I want you to sit in the middle with us," Dick leaned in to peck her on the lips.

Bruce rolled his eyes, disgruntled at such sappiness. "I don't want to sit so close to the front," he objected as Dick carried Barbara to the fourth row of seats and planted her in the middle. Tim followed along with the food, leaning his head down to eat right from his bucket.

"Go along and enjoy it," Clark encouraged him.

"No one listens to me anymore," Bruce began, but Clark put a warning a hand on his rear end. The younger superheroes didn't notice, but Bruce stiffened.

"Clark," he whispered in concern, "please."

"Then smile and look like you're having a good time."

Bruce glowered for a second. But then he forced his mouth up into a smile (more a grimace than anything) and he went into the row of seats, sitting next to Tim.

Bouncing so much that he nearly spilled his popcorn, Tim grinned at him. "Thanks for bringing us, Bruce. I told you we'd have fun."

Biting back a retort, Bruce kept his grim smile and reached his hand out. Tim pulled back for a second, scared he would get smacked again, but Bruce tousled his hair and squeezed the back of his neck before settling back in his seat.

Tim turned to smile at Dick on his other side and then down at Barbara. He took three gulps of soda.

The lights began to go out, and the green preview screen came on.

"I got to go to the bathroom," Tim whispered, setting his food aside.

Frowning, Bruce pulled his legs in to let Tim slip by.

"Shoot," Dick said as he crunched his popcorn. "They put too much butter on ours. Bruce, can we borrow some of your popcorn?"

Like a martyr, Bruce handed over his popcorn and turned to glower at the screen.

Clark smiled affectionately. He put one hand over Bruce's wrist that lay on the armrest. He felt Bruce relax.

Tim came back during the third preview, tripping over Clark's legs and nearly falling into Bruce's lap. He sat down and managed to spill half his popcorn on the floor.

"It's okay," Dick whispered. "You can have some of Bruce's."

"That's it," Bruce said in his best Batman voice. "Next person to move is going to run laps when we get home."

Clark bit back a smile and stood up. "I'll go get more popcorn. Kids, try to calm him down until I get back."

Bruce leaned back in his chair, ignoring the three grinning faces turned in his direction. There were days where his family was too much to bear. Other days they were barely endurable.

The End


End file.
